The absence of individual artists’ names in the preceding discourse is notable, with only occasional references such as the Master of the Registrum Gregorii. This lack of attribution, whether by choice or due to limited historical knowledge, is reflective of the broader ambiguity surrounding early medieval artists. While some modern sobriquets coined by art historians attempt to fill these gaps, they often provide little insight into the actual creators behind medieval masterpieces.
Contrastingly, the roles of patrons such as Charlemagne, Benedict Biscop, and others are prominently featured due to their societal prominence and the relatively greater historical documentation surrounding them. However, the evidence of early medieval artistic patronage often originates from inscriptions on artworks themselves, created by the very artists whose identities remain elusive.
An example from the ninth century illustrates this dynamic, as Bishop Angilbert of Milan commissioned a lavish golden altar for the church of St. Ambrose. While Angilbert is actively depicted as the patron, the actual artist, identified as “Master Wolvinus,” receives minimal recognition. Despite being credited as the craftsman, Wolvinus’s name doesn’t find a place in the inscription, indicating a prevailing trend where patrons overshadowed artists in recognition.
The societal and intellectual standing of artists during this era was notably low, as they were often regarded as craftsmen rather than intellectuals. This distinction persisted from ancient times, where visual arts were considered mechanical rather than liberal arts, relegating artists to a lower social stratum.
Nevertheless, artists played crucial roles in the creation of medieval artworks, employing their pictorial intelligence to convey complex themes even if their contributions were often overshadowed by patrons. The limited evidence makes it challenging to discuss individual artists or make broad generalizations about their social positions, although some indications suggest varying social standings among early medieval artisans.
The involvement of both laymen and monks in artistic endeavors further complicates the narrative, challenging the common perception that early medieval art was solely produced within monastic settings. Visual evidence suggests collaboration between lay professionals and monastic craftsmen, particularly in the creation of luxury objects that demanded specialized skills.
Understanding the motives of patrons like Charles the Bald or Egbert in commissioning artworks reveals a primary desire for spiritual rewards, as evidenced by inscriptions expressing hopes for divine favor and eternal life. Artistic patronage in the early Middle Ages primarily served as a means of seeking divine favor rather than purely aesthetic or intellectual pursuits.
The inscription found on the altar frontal of Henry II bestows upon St. Benedict the title of “doctor,” a nod to Henry’s recovery from kidney stones following his prayers to the saint. This object serves as a testament to Henry’s gratitude while simultaneously proclaiming the divine favor he received from Benedict. Interestingly, Henry opts to downplay his own significance by portraying himself in a diminutive figure, almost imperceptible, yet the inscription boldly names him, thereby showcasing his ostentatious humility. This apparent contradiction, wherein humility leads to exaltation, reflects a fundamental medieval mindset deeply rooted in Christian theology.
This concept of exalted humility finds its origin in Christ’s incarnation, where his willingness to humble himself by taking human form ultimately led to his exalted role as humanity’s savior. Such a mindset permeated much of early medieval artistic patronage. For instance, in the titulus accompanying the Germigny-des-Prés apse mosaic, Theodulf implores viewers to beseech God with their prayers and to include him in their supplications. Rather than directly seeking divine favor like Angilbert, Theodulf adopts a stance of humility, relying on the prayers of others. Yet paradoxically, it is Theodulf himself who is honored in the inscription below the resplendent golden mosaic, elevating his humility to a different realm than those who pray on his behalf.